


Summer Snows

by orphan_account



Category: Game of Thrones (TV), Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Cold, Crossover, Drinking, F/M, Game of Thrones References, Good Pansy Parkinson, Happy Ending, Kissing, Magical Tattoos, Party, Sassy Pansy Parkinson, Summer, Summer Love, Summer Romance, Summer Vacation, Swimming, The Great Lake | The Black Lake (Harry Potter)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-09
Updated: 2020-06-09
Packaged: 2021-03-04 01:07:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,716
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24625219
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Summer is finally here! Pansy Parkinson is excited to finally spend her days tanning on the beach, roasting marshmallows around a fire and most of all, looking for a summer romance. Jon Snow washes up on the shoreline one night during a summer party and a thrilling summer romance ensues.Crossover AU. Written for the Draco's Den 'School's Out for Summer' Fest.
Relationships: Pansy Parkinson/Jon Snow
Comments: 4
Kudos: 6
Collections: School's Out For Summer





	Summer Snows

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: the characters do not belong to me but are the property of J.K.R, Warner Bros and George R.R. Martin. No copyright infringement is intended. I make no profit from these works. All stories are for fun and entertainment only. 
> 
> I welcome reviews/comments of people who enjoy my works, but am also happy to consider a thoughtful review of my work, even if it includes constructive criticism. 
> 
> Thank you for taking the time to read. I hope you enjoy it.

The sun was setting over the Hogwarts grounds, the horizon streaked with deep pinks and radiant purples as the crimson glow of the fading sun finally sank below the distant treeline. The first Annual Black Lake Beach Bash was about to begin; a celebration for the graduating classes of seventh and eighth years. For Pansy Parkinson, the ‘Beach Bash’ represented more than a simple ‘end of school’ celebration. The momentous occasion meant that summer was well and truly here. Summer meant days lazing on the beach sipping colourful cocktails, nights spent around a campfire toasting marshmallows in the flames and baking aluminium wrapped bananas coated in Honeydukes chocolate in the glowing coals… The sticky sweetness was absolutely to die for and one of Pansy’s favourite childhood memories. She had gone camping with her cousins once, living off hotdogs and coal cooked bananas and chocolate for a glorious three days, before she had been forced to return home to her ‘real’ life. But the sweet memory lingered, making summer Pansy’s favourite time of year.

But this year, change was in the air. Pansy was eighteen now, and she knew that as Parkinson family custom dictated, she would be betrothed to a worthy suitor by the time she turned twenty-one. _Three years._ That was all that remained of her youth before she would be expected to settle down and start popping out little heirs. Pansy cringed at the idea. Imagine her with a brood of squalling, screaming youngsters hanging off her arm... That was why this summer was so important. Pansy was hoping for one last summer of fun, maybe even a whirlwind romance such as she had read about in some girly nonsense books one of her dormmates had left lying about. This party was the key to that little summer dream of hers. There was no telling what would happen under starlight and the influence of Madam Rosmerta’s special Seafoam Sangria’s…

Pansy made her way down to the Black Lake, stumbling a little in the dim light of her wand. She could see glowing colours down by the shore of the lake and headed in that direction, cursing her flimsy sandals which seemed to rub in all the wrong places. She would have blisters by morning, she just knew it. But she hadn’t been able to resist the temptation to show off her newly pedicured feet. For a kitchen elf, Fern had done an amazing job and it seemed a shame to miss the opportunity to showcase all her fine work.

Upon reaching the shoreline, a gasp nearly escaped Pansy’s lips. The Hogwarts professors had really outdone themselves! A forest of giant jellyfish hovered seven or eight feet off the surface of the lake, the bulbous bell-shaped heads of the jellyfish each glowing a different colour; brilliant reds, oranges, yellows, greens, blues, pinks and purples mirrored in the rippling surface of the lake. As she edged closer to the shore, Pansy noted a dozen large pink inflatable flamingos bobbing on the surface of the lake. She grinned when one of the boys splashing around in the water got too close to a flamingo, the giant inflatable bird promptly turning on the boy with an indignant squawk and proceeding to chase him across the lake, rapping him on the back of the head with its rubber beak as it gave chase, the boy flailing his arms dramatically as he reached the shore and all but sprinted back to the safety of the sand, the bird returning to its fellows with a proud toss of its head. Pansy smirked; she must remember to give those flamingos a wide berth when she went for a dip later.

She walked around the edge of the lake, greeting the students she knew with graceful nods and charming smiles, making her way to the refreshments table which was loaded with some very tasty treats. At both ends of the long table stood tall jars of multicoloured Loch Ness liquorice, beside platters of Coral & Conch cupcakes and Sand Dollar cookies, and cups of Jiggle & Giggle jelly. At the centre of the table stood the biggest bowl of Pearl & Palm Tree Punch Pansy had ever seen _,_ flanked by bottles of Madam Rosmerta’s special Seafoam Sangrias and Dock ‘n’ Dune Daquiris. It was going to be one hell of a party!

After 40 minutes and five Dock ‘n’ Dune Daquiris, Pansy’s head was spinning. Everyone at the party seemed to be moving much slower than usual, the coloured jellyfish appearing to wave overhead at them all. But Pansy had come prepared, having had the forethought to bring a vial of Sober Up Potion. She uncorked the little vial and raised it to her lips, thinking she would just have a sip or two to take the worst of the spinning side-effect off, when something very strange happened. A swirling, shimmering whirlpool seemed to be forming in the middle of the lake with a person inside it. _No more daquiris for me…_ Pansy decided, downing the entire vial of Sober Up Potion. She blinked, her head clearing almost instantly.

She looked back at the lake. The whirlpool was gone, but the person she thought she had seen inside it was now crawling up onto the pebbled bank of the lake, his dark hair plastered to his head, coughing and shaking, his sodden clothes clinging to his skin. He was wearing black, thick winter things, Pansy realised, wondering at his choice of swimming attire.

“Excuse me!” she called, grabbing her towel and heading over to him. She draped it carefully around his shoulders as the young man looked up at her, still shivering.

“Are you alright?” Pansy asked, casting a warming charm over him with her wand.

“How did you do that?” he asked in a thick northern accent.

“What’s your name?” Pansy countered. “And where are you from?” she added curiously. “I’ve never seen you around.”

“My name’s Jon Snow. I’m from the north, I suppose. _True north,_ my father always said.” he shrugged. “Now, who are you? And how did you do that? And where in seven hells am I?” he demanded, fixing her with a stern glare.

Pansy almost shivered; she liked it when he looked at her like that. This _Jon Snow_ had a certain commanding presence. He was no silly boy like the ones at Hogwarts. There was something strange, something alluring about him and Pansy found herself craving to be close to him, to know more about him.

“My name’s Pansy Parkinson.” She said, smiling reassuringly and meeting his eyes, which were a deep, intense brown. They were eyes that had seen too much, and Pansy found herself melting into them. “And you’re at Hogwarts. Well, at the lake, at least. The castle’s up there.” She said, pointing to where the lit windows twinkled in the distance.

“Hogwarts?” Jon repeated, the word sounding strange rolling off his tongue. “I’ve not heard of this castle. Where in the Seven Kingdoms is it?” He demanded urgently. “I need to get back to Castle Black. Or to Dragonstone. Which is nearer?”

“I’ve never heard of either.” Pansy said confusedly. “Is that where your school is? Is it hidden like ours?” she asked.

“School?” Jon repeated. “I’ve never been to a school. My father taught me my letters.” he added proudly.

“This castle is a school.” Pansy explained. “Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Wait, who’s your father?” she asked curiously; finding everything Jon said to be confusing and intriguing at the same time.

“Lord Eddard Stark of Winterfell, Warden of the North. I’m his bastard son.” Jon added.

“Don’t call yourself…” Pansy started, but Jon interrupted her.

“So, you are a witch then?” he said with a suspicious glance at her. “Which gods are you sworn to serve? The Lord of Light? The Seven? The Old Gods?” he demanded, looking at her with mistrust.

“I serve _no-one._ ” Pansy declared. “My house is one of the oldest and most pure, one of the Sacred Twenty-eight. I have never heard of these gods of yours or this _Seventh Kingdom_ you say you’re from.” she said, starting to get a little angry with Jon’s obvious suspicion of her.

“I’m sorry.” Jon said meekly, grabbing her hand when Pansy moved to get up and storm away from this weirdo and his suspicious interrogation. “I thought—I thought you were like Melisandre, the Red--, never mind. Forgive my rudeness miss, _my lady…_ Pansy, is it?” he asked.

Pansy paused, allowing Jon to draw her gently back to the ground where he sat. _My Lady…_ She liked that. “You’re forgiven.” she said, sitting closer to him.

“I need to find a way to get back.” Jon said quietly. “There’s a war coming. The Night King—” He paused; she wouldn’t understand of course. “I just—I have to get back. People are counting on me, my sisters, my friends, _Daenerys…_ I have a duty.” he tried to explain.

“I understand. It’s just, I don’t think you _can_ get back.” Pansy said hesitantly. “I know geography. My father made me learn all the great castles and lords of the old houses and I’ve never heard of your father or any of these castles you’ve named… I think maybe yours only exists in another place, another time, maybe? Even if magic could get you back… your war is probably over. I’m sorry.” she said, placing a hand very gently on his knee.

“But…” Jon said, struggling to come to grips with it all. “You have magic. Couldn’t you…send me back?” He asked hopefully.

“It’s not that kind of magic.” Pansy said sadly, truly feeling bad for him that he couldn’t get home to his family.

“So I’m… _stuck_ here then?” Jon said glumly.

“Yep. Stuck. With me.” Pansy said with a wink.

Jon was taken aback, but managed a smile. “Well, maybe it won’t be _so_ bad then.” He said, making Pansy laugh.

“Come on.” Pansy said, tugging him to his feet.

“Where are we going?” Jon asked, allowing her to lead him down a bank to the lake, hidden by thick rushes of swamp milkweed.

“ _We,_ ” Pansy declared, “are going _swimming.”_

“I don’t—I don’t really swim.” Jon said uncomfortably.

“Not even in summer?” Pansy asked.

“Well, when I was a boy… yes. With my brothers at Winterfell. But not for a long time. _Years._ ” He said nostalgically.

“But surely…” Pansy said slowly, as she waded out into the water, “You wouldn’t allow… a _lady_ …to swim unescorted?” she said with a glance at him, as she gave the water a playful splash.

Jon swallowed hard as he watched the moonlight shimmer on the surface of the lake, his eyes slowly drifting up to Pansy’s large, dark eyes.

“Come on, get in here. The water’s lovely and warm.” Pansy declared, splashing a little as she threw him a wicked grin.

“I—I don’t—” Jon stammered hesitantly. This girl was a high-born. She belonged to one of the oldest and purest houses, so she’d said. He couldn’t swim alone with a noblewoman. It wouldn't be proper. Or … _could he?_

“Come on, Jon…” Pansy called in a singsong voice, laughing as Jon Snow gave in at last and tore off his heavy cloak and shirt before he hurried forward into the water, splashing deeper into the lake, the water coming up to his chest as he drew near Pansy, who looked up at him innocently.

“You are wicked. Sinful.” Jon declared in a mildly scolding tone, as he brushed a leaf out of Pansy’s hair.

She caught his hand before he pulled away, meeting his dark eyes with her own, before bending her head and trailing kisses, featherlight, all the way up his arm, over his shoulder, to his neck, where she lingered, nipping and sucking at his throat.

Jon let out a little groan and drew Pansy close to him, desire battling honour for dominance in his head.

“We shouldn’t…” Jon protested, as Pansy brushed her lips against his.

“Shouldn’t what?” Pansy said innocently, turning to look at him, her glittering eyes full of lust and something else Jon couldn’t quite place. He never did figure out what it was, as Pansy chose that moment to press her full, soft lips to his. Jon melted into her mouth as she slid her tongue over his bottom lip and into his mouth.

Blood and need raced through Jon and he gasped, pulling back for an instant, Pansy’s lips now pink and swollen in the light of the floating jellies above.

“What?” Pansy said, as Jon hesitated.

“You’re a _lady.”_ Jon panted. “Supposed to treat you with…. _Respect.”_ He said firmly.

Jon Snow looked into her eyes then and knew she was like no lady he had ever met, and he _loved_ it. He loved every second of her lips on his. Loved the ragged breaths and racing pulse she coaxed from his body, loved the pleasure coiling deep in his belly at her touch; he loved the feel of her tongue swirling against his, exploring his mouth. And he loved that satisfied smile that crossed her face, loved that she relished making him react this way, loved that she did it all for him.

And what he loved even more was Pansy inviting him to spend the summer months with her and her family. For perhaps the first time in his life, Jon Snow was welcomed to the table with the high-borns, not sent away lest _the bastard_ shame the good family name. Lord and Lady Parkinson let him talk as much as he liked and seemed to enjoy his stories (though Jon left out some of the more violent aspects lest he frighten his kind host and hostess).

Pansy, in turn, loved every minute she spent in Jon Snow’s fascinating company. She loved the gasps of mingled shock and wonder when she took him to his first ever Quidditch match, though Jon had given himself a sore neck and hoarse throat by the end of it from constantly swivelling in his seat to look at her and saying with a look of astonishment: “Did you see _that??”_ His awe of her world made her feel rare and special, something she had never experienced at Hogwarts when she’d had to fight to be noticed around students with similar or more impressive magical skills than her. She was Jon Snow’s queen and she loved him for it.

Jon Snow brought a love of culture to Pansy’s life that she had never appreciated before. She had been around the arts all her young life, but there was something about visiting art galleries and museums on Jon’s arm, and hearing his own songs and stories from his homeland that endeared him to her. So much so, that Pansy rather boldly suggested they get magical tattoos together, something Jon was intrigued by, though he required some coaxing when Pansy explained that the needle would put the ink _into_ his skin. He’d looked at her with horror then, but she was his lady and he trusted her judgement absolutely. He’d ended up with a fearsome white wolf with red eyes on his upper arm. His direwolf, Ghost, he’d explained, watching the tattooed image of his wolf curl up and nestle comfortably just above his bicep. Pansy herself had chosen the words of House Stark to be tattooed on her foot, encircled with delicate pale blue swirls and snowflakes which would spin and cascade gently down around the famed words: _winter is coming._

The end of summer came and with it the changing colours and chill winds of autumn. The leaves began to drop from the trees and snow began to fall. _Winter is coming_ , Jon Snow thought to himself, but for the first time, the words didn’t inspire a dread of cold, darkness and a deadly struggle for survival. Winter was coming, and the image it now conjured in his mind was of warm fireplaces and books and mugs of hot cocoa with sweet melted marshmallows, and sweetest of all, his lady love. Winter’s icy grip of fear, isolation and loss had broken at last for Jon Snow, replaced with his sweet summer flower, Pansy; his lady, his love and his hope for a lifelong season of summer.


End file.
